


I Think There's a Fault in my Code

by AmyTheEleventh



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: And Steve..., Bucky took control of his narrative and not in a good way, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Dark!Bucky, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pet Names, Steve did what Bucky told him to do because that's what happens when you love someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14911130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyTheEleventh/pseuds/AmyTheEleventh
Summary: Everything he did, he did for this moment right here: the promise of an end that gives way to a new beginning. He can be safe. He can be with Bucky. That’s all that matters.





	I Think There's a Fault in my Code

**Author's Note:**

> Wowza. This is dark. Like - way dark. Most of the darkness is implied, though, and I've read way darker, so it's fine. 
> 
> I'm three chapters deep into _Palisades; Palisades!_ (ie, the parent piece/origin to [ _Swallow the Shame_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807909)) and this is my way of procrastinating. I'm hoping to have it done before the month's out, so keep any eye out - it's the barista!Bucky and teacher!Steve AU that no one fucking asked for but I'm giving you anyway. Just needed to crank out a quick little something to keep the creativity flowing in the meantime.
> 
> Title from Halsey's [_Gasoline_.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRHNi3QfFlE)
> 
> I don't have the original link to the prompt because I found it on Pinterest, but here it is in it's entirety: 
> 
>  
> 
> _"How lucky they are," the antagonist murmured to the betrayer. "To have as a good friend as you on their side. Honestly, that performance was flawless. Moved me to tears. Bravo!"_
> 
>  
> 
> _The betrayer flinched and kept staring straight ahead."_
> 
>  
> 
> General Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just fucking around on the internet for the lols.

“ _Fuck_! Steve-” Sam takes a series of shallow breaths as Steve applies pressure on the wound, trying to temper the pain rather than stem the flow of blood.  
  
Sam doesn’t have much time. Steve wonders dazedly if Stark’s jet would have been able to make it out here in time to save him.  
  
“I’m right here, I’m here- Sam, c’mon, don’t do this to me-” Steve keeps a firm palm on the center of the gash, blood soaking through his leather glove. All of their supplies are too far away. He could get up and make a break for the first aid kit, sure; make Sam believe his best friend spent his last breathing moments doing everything he could do to save him. But after everything he’s done, everything he’s lost up to this point… Steve doesn’t want to lose a single one of the seconds he has left.  
  
So he keeps his hand to the wound, gathers Sam in his other arm to hold him against his chest, muttering all the while that it’ll be over soon, it’ll all be okay. Sam breathes raggedly against his shoulder, body shaking with every small inhale.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes out. His skin feels tight and heavy, and for a moment he wishes he could trade places with the man dying in his arms. Sam only ever had his back. He doesn’t deserve this. “God, Sam- I’m sorry, I’m sorry I can’t- _fuck_ -”  
  
“S’good,” Sam slurs out. He can barely keep his eyes open, but he’s doing his best. “We’re good, man…”  
  
“We’re not.” Steve’s face is hot and wet, bottom lip trembling. “I-... I couldn’t save you. I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking-”  
  
“S’good,” Sam repeats. Steve can feel his heartbeat under his fingers, and it’s getting weaker with every pump. This’ll be over soon.  
  
“Best pal I ever had,” Steve whispers brokenly, pressing their foreheads together. “Don’t you forget that.” In the dim light Steve can see Sam offer the weakest of smiles. It breaks his heart all over again.  
  
Steve speaks softly as Sam fades. He just wants to keep that smile on his face; Sam deserves to be happy in his last moments. He talks about their good memories: how they met, their late night chats, the listening parties Sam held that consisted of the two of them, good food, and whatever classic record Sam had picked up that day. He tells Sam what a good friend he is, what a good _man_ , and that the world was lucky to have him for as long as it did.  
  
Sam does his best to contribute, but the words are weak and broken. And he’s so _pale_ ; Steve has never seen him so pallid, not even when he ended up in the hospital with the flu and couldn’t keep anything down for a week. He refrains from looking down at Sam’s leg; his glove is probably stained a deep red, but he can’t feel the liquid gushing of blood under his hand anymore.  
  
This is it, he realizes.  
  
“It’s okay,” Steve whispers. “I’ve got ya… it’s alright, Sam.” It occurs to him that Sam probably can’t hear him. He probably stopped really processing anything a good minute or two ago.  
  
Steve holds him close, listens to the sound of his rattling breaths and counts each one.  
  
One. Two. Three. Four-  
  
There’s a heavier push of air at the end of the fourth one, and in his daze Steve feels a rush of something that used to be hope.  
  
Sam stills in his arms. The concrete room around them goes absolutely silent. Steve gazes at his face, so peaceful in death, his mind not wanting to believe what happened right in front of him. It’s a minute before the weight of the situation really sets in.  
  
_Sam’s dead._  
  
_It’s all your fault._  
  
Steve chokes out a broken sob and crushes Sam’s limp body to his chest, mumbling helpless apologies that mean nothing to a dead man. He wants to run, hide; he wants to forget the atrocities that got him to this moment. And what for?  
  
The lightest of footsteps approach from behind, and Steve flinches just slightly at the gentle hand that touches his shoulder.  
  
_For that_ , he realizes.  
  
"Best pal you ever had, huh? I’m hurt, Stevie.” Steve wretches out another sob and drops the body from his arms, turning around and launching himself into the arms of the only person he has left in this world.  
  
The Winter Soldier. The Asset.   
  
_Bucky_.  
  
Strong, sure arms wrap around Steve’s back and he presses his face into Bucky’s neck. “I’m kidding, of course,” he murmurs sweetly. One hand - the flesh one - finds its way into Steve’s hair and strokes soothingly. “You did so well, sweetheart. So perfect for me. I’ve never been so proud.” Bucky holds him tight and coos sweet nothings in his ear while Steve falls apart against his chest. They stand like that for a while; Steve’s not sure for how long, but eventually Bucky’s hand is under his chin, nudging Steve’s face up so their lips can meet.  
  
“Hmm… Practically moved me to tears, sugar,” Bucky sighs into his mouth. “They were all so goddamn lucky to have you.” Steve doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t move or react. He lets Bucky cover his face with small, sweet kisses, all the while whispering the kindest words into his skin.  
  
Eventually Steve becomes aware that Bucky’s watching him, studying every inch of his face with a sweet smile on his lips.  
  
“You ready to go home?” Bucky asks gently, sweeping his bangs back. “Get you cleaned up, make you something to eat…” Steve just keeps staring ahead, unable to find the energy to speak. Bucky sighs and hugs him back to his chest.  
  
“It’s over now, Stevie,” he whispers. “You did your part- and you did so good for me. Gonna make sure you get a nice reward. And you don’t ever have to lift a finger again, never again, baby.” Even in his hazy state, that catches Steve’s attention. He pulls back, and the bright look in Bucky’s eyes and his sweet smile is almost enough to make things feel okay.  
  
“Promise?” Steve asks, voice low and rough and broken. Bucky thumbs at his cheek, wiping away tears.  
  
“It’s over, baby,” he repeats, cooing. “You let me handle all the rest.” Steve gazes into Bucky’s eyes for a moment, searching.  
  
Everything he did, he did for this moment right here: the promise of an end that gives way to a new beginning. He can be safe, he can be with Bucky. That’s all that matters.  
  
Captain America has run his last mission. It’s all over now.  
  
“Okay,” he concedes, and Bucky practically hums.  
  
“There’s my boy,” he murmurs. He reaches down for Steve’s hand, peeling the blood stained glove off before intertwining their fingers. “Truck’s out back. We can be back before midnight.” Steve nods and lets Bucky lead him back through the winding corridors.  
  
They leave Sam’s body among the hired goons they were supposedly tracking down. There’s no point in burying him.  
  
There’s no one left to mourn.

 

-

 

Somewhere deep down, he knows this isn’t his Bucky. The Bucky he knew was kind, fair, gentle; he never hurt anyone if he could help it.  
  
But he was given a chance, and, blinded as he may have been, he took it.  
  
Everyone he loves is dead. Except Bucky. He has Bucky.  
  
That has to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> SO. Let's pretend after HYDRA fell, Bucky became a free agent and a wanted man. Let's pretend he went rogue and took over what was left of the very organization that turned him into the Winter Soldier. Let's pretend the Avengers sought him out against Steve's insistence. Let's pretend Bucky used Steve's undying love and devotion to convince Steve to help him pick off the Avengers one by one so that nothing could stand in his way. 
> 
> Let's pretend my line of thinking makes any sense, because this is fanfiction, and at the end of the day it's not that deep.
> 
> You can hate me if you want; to be honest, the thought that Bucky would escape Hydra and want to be anything but kind and gentle afterwards never even crossed my mind before tonight. I'm not one to write nor read dark and/or sad shit, so I'm not sure how this poured out so easily. 
> 
> If you liked it, thanks for reading, because you're the heart and soul of what I do. If you didn't like it, regardless of why, thanks for reading, and I hope you'll give me another chance. The piece I linked in the beginning notes is much lighter fare (ie domestic stucky fucking). Big Love to everyone no matter what.


End file.
